


World Went On Turning

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Draco's choice to leave her before, and it was his choice to find her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Went On Turning

Generally speaking, it wasn't that hard to find Draco alone.

Far from, in fact. He was alone most of the time nowadays, not that it was terribly surprising. There weren't that many people back at Hogwarts - when they'd returned for their so-called 'eighth year' - who wanted anything to do with him, and after that, he'd sort of fallen into the state of having adapted to people not speaking to him any more. What little was brought up of him was in hushed whispers, or bitter remarks. Children of people whose families had died during the war; siblings of people who'd died. Regardless of where or not he'd had a direct hand in it, he still bore the Mark, and everyone knew it; he was still guilty by association, and he was the only available one to blame. Everyone else was either dead or in Azkaban, really.

It had a profound sort of effect on his psyche. Where he had once been outspoken and brash, Draco slipped back into himself, slowly building up walls until the things people said around him when they thought he couldn't hear no longer hurt, no longer stung and buried themselves deep beneath his skin. To say that he was quiet now was an understatement; half the time, people wondered if he was even capable of speech any more.

But that had been nearly three years ago, and three years was a long time. It was enough time for him to drift back into relative obscurity, the Malfoy name no longer lingering on the tips of everyone's tongues; he could go out in public now, so long as he kept his head down and his mouth shut. Relatively easy, after the abuse he'd sustained during that final year at school.

Pansy first noticed him when she was passing through a more minor street in London, somewhere that straddled the line between magical and Muggle. It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten just how withdrawn he'd gotten; it wasn't like him to go so unnoticed, almost completely blending into the crowd save his height and that shock of familiar white-blond hair. There as no denying that it was him, even if she wanted to, but the truth of the matter was that she enjoyed seeing him. She enjoyed that familiar tightness in her chest that stemmed from seeing him, and hoping fervently that he might look her way. Perhaps grace her with a smile like he once might have. A girl could certainly hope.

Belatedly, she wondered if staring at someone was a feeling that registered for them, like people always said it did; she wondered if it was even him, or just someone who looked like him; she wondered and wondered and wondered until thought gave way to a jumbled mess of words stringing themselves through her head incorrectly, and she merely propped her chin up in one hand, returning instead to hope. It was safer, felt more like home.

When he finally looked her way, a wary little frown tugging at his brow, she knew without a doubt that it was him; her heart felt like it had jumped into her throat and set up camp, and Pansy realised without really any surprise at all that she'd never really gotten over him. Truth be told, she wasn't sure that she even wanted to be. At first, his gaze jumped over her - she didn't blame him; she was as hidden away as he was, dressed down with her head slightly down to keep the attention off of her - but when it finally came back around, training on her with a sort of uncertainty that suggested a number of things, none of which she could completely wrap her head around.

But then she'd blinked, and he had sidled up to her, his head ducked slightly as well, perhaps to speak to her without having to lift his voice too much. A way to keep them both under wraps as necessary, and the world went on turning.

"Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," she replied mildly.

His eyes flicked upwards from where they lingered on the ground, finally meeting hers. They seemed paler than usual, though no less like small lakes, endless and deep. Her heart leapt a little, flip-flopping as the eye contact held for a long moment, ending as Draco glanced back away, almost contrite.

"I just-" He started, hesitating in a way she knew was a learned habit since the war. He had to watch what he said, lest it was taken out of context; she hadn't realised it would blur into his interactions with people he'd once called friends.

"Did you want to get a cuppa with me?" Pansy broke into his thoughts, her invitation leaving very little room for denial. Surprise was written clear across his face when he glanced back up to her, his eyes slightly wide - he resembled a deer caught in headlamps instead of a twenty-year-old man. She plastered a smile across her face, finding it less difficult than one might otherwise imagine, all things considered; there was something about him that just made her smile, especially when he was taken off-guard like this. It made him seem more human.

After a few long moments - what felt like ages - she held out her hand to him in silent prompting: he could take it, and go with her, and all would be forgiven; or he could not, and they could both go along on their respective way.

He took it.


End file.
